


Destiny: Without You Redux

by flailingthroughsanity



Series: A 2011 State of Mind [1]
Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Military, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 13:47:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4837523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flailingthroughsanity/pseuds/flailingthroughsanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was like a light had opened and Jiyong realized how beautiful Seungri was, especially when they made love. Especially when rain poured heavily outside, the curtains shut tight, the orange light of the lamp painting the room and their bare bodies with shadows and light. Especially when Jiyong pushed further into Seungri, when Seungri’s cries of pleasure echoed, when Jiyong kissed him and Seungri came and suddenly all the sunsets and sunrises Jiyong had seen seemed to pale in comparison to Seungri’s beauty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Destiny: Without You Redux

**Author's Note:**

> I was rifling through the older folders and I found this gem, which I wrote back in 2011 when I first got into K-Pop and yes, BIGBANG had the honor of cementing me into the K-pop world. It's a pretty old work (and originally a songfic as well! Ah, all those early fanfiction days), and my writing back then was mediocre at best (not that my writing now is any better). This was originally posted on my first AFF account (TwistedNightmare), but I had deactivated that long ago, so I'm putting it up here again, for nostalgia's sake. Original title was "Without You".
> 
> Ah, G-Ri. All those college freshman days of sobbing over these two idiots.

**Destiny (Without You Redux)  
** _flailingthroughsanity as TwistedNightmare_

* * *

Kwon Jiyong had seen a lot of pilots in his entire life. Working as a communications officer in South Korea’s airbase, he had met, befriended, hated and seen as many pilots a communications officer could. Some of them interested him, some of them irked him; some of them, like Dong Youngbae and Kang Daesung, even became his closest friends. It would be easy, then, to say that Kwon Jiyong had seen them all.

You can say that he was wrong. Yes, he was wrong. He was wrong when he said that he had seen them all, all from one of the few women pilots like Lee Chaerin to his commanding officer Choi Seunghyun. He was wrong, yes.

∞

Training in the military was hard, especially if you voluntarily chose that job, and not just the compulsory military service. Jiyong knew, first-hand, what it felt to train from sun up to sun down and sleep being something nonexistent. He knew what it felt to have his legs give up on him after the sixty-seventh lap, to have his arms collapse after the hundred-twentieth push-up, to groan in pain as his muscles screamed in agony of it all. He felt it all and he got through it all, and here he was, a communications officer in a military airbase.

Sure, the job sounded less glamorous than pilot or air marshal, but Jiyong was proud of his achievement. It took a lot out of him — blood, sweat, tears and so much determination — but standing there in his military uniform, insignia gleaming in the fluorescent lights, Jiyong couldn’t be prouder.

So, it was a surprise (though not _that_ big of a surprise) when Choi Seunghyun passed through the doors of his office, a young man with eyes like pandas in tow. A head shorter than the imposingly tall commander, the man rivaled Jiyong’s height and impossibly young.

“Jiyong,” Seunghyun spoke, after returning Jiyong’s salute, gesturing to the panda boy behind him, “this is Lieutenant Lee Seunghyun. Lieutenant, this is Major Kwon Jiyong.”

“Sir,” Panda-Seunghyun saluted, eyes gazing into Jiyong’s. It took a while for Jiyong to respond, immediately enamored by the passion and fire burning in the boy’s eyes.

It’s been a while since he had last seen that passion.

∞

Panda-Seunghyun, or Seungri as what he would like other people to call him, was quite different _and_ the same with the other pilots, Jiyong concluded. He was different in the way that even though he had passed training, passed sleepless nights and near-breakdowns, he seemed to still _bloom_ with innocence. It was quite clear with the way his eyes lit up when Daesung laughed at his jokes, or when Youngbae hoisted him on his shoulders and spun him around or even when Big-Seunghyun cracked a small smile at his antics.

Protocol and military etiquette were always treated with harsh respect and Seungri followed each rule without question, but there was something about the man that made everyone else feel at ease around him — made people feel better about themselves, finding a friend in the pilot’s obnoxious laughter and his carefree, _young_ smile.

He was the same with the other pilots in regard to his skill, Jiyong mused. He was exceptionally good with aircrafts, even giving Youngbae, the best of their batch, a run for his money. Zeal _burned_ in the pilot’s veins, and it was no surprise to hear so many acclaims from the other officers at Seungri’s dedication. In spite of how he looked, of how he always seemed to be a windfall’s push away into fainting in exhaustion, the pilot was made with more fire than Jiyong had been at his age. Seungri really was quite different _and_ the same.

∞

It was two months later that Seungri and Jiyong had their first conversation since Big-Seunghyun introduced them, a conversation that involved words aside from “ _Area-4 is clear”_ and _“Victory is ready for take-off, please stand by”._

“Lieutenant,” Jiyong spoke, sitting down in front of the surprised boy in the cafeteria, placing his tray slowly. The boy made a motion to stand but Jiyong waved him off.

Seungri seemed furious, “B-but, sir! I h—have to!”

So respectful and unwilling to budge a hair-strand’s width away from tradition. It was like looking into the mirror and finding a younger Jiyong, still full of fire and passion.

“No need, Seungri-ah. We’re on a date, after all.” The words were out of Jiyong’s mouth before he could even _think_ to process them over. He fixed the teasing grin on his face as he watched Seungri’s mouth fall open, askance falling across his face, seeing the mashed food in there. Jiyong snorted, “It’s rude to eat with your mouth open, you know.”

At once, Seungri shut his mouth and continued chewing, taking a big gulp out of his water. “I’m sorry, sir b—“

“Jiyong.”

“Sir?”

Jiyong rolled his eyes. “Call me Jiyong, alright?”

Seungri’s eyes widened, and he opened his mouth again, as if choosing to argue once more but Jiyong glared at him. The pilot shut his mouth and nodded. “If y—you want me to.”

Jiyong grinned. “I want to.”

It was a moment of silence, a moment of Jiyong glaring at what was supposed to be _food_ , but which he could not consider it to be even edible and poison-less. “J—Jiyong, sir, what do you mean when…”

A sigh. “Lose the “sir”, Seungri, and what do I mean when what?”

He watched Seungri scratch the back of his head in obvious embarrassment. “…when you said we were…dating?”

“Oh,” Jiyong smirked, “we’re on a date, aren’t we?”

“But, we’re not dating, sir.”

“ _Seungri_.”

“I mean, Jiyong.”

By this time, Seungri had red splashed all over his cheeks. It was adorable, gloriously adorable. “Do we need to be dating to have a date, Seungri-ah?”

Seungri looked up, eyes curious before slowly shaking his head, a small smile on his lips. For some reason (lies, he knew the reason, he just didn’t want to explore the entirety of it right now), the smile eased Jiyong’s spirit. “I guess not.”

“Good boy,” Jiyong grinned before reaching over to ruffle Seungri’s hair.

∞

“We should have a date.” Jiyong spoke, two weeks later, as he smoked a stub outside, turning to watch Seungri fiddle with something inside the engine compartment of his airplane.

“Didn’t we have a date, I dunno, weeks ago?” Seungri answered, momentarily glancing at Jiyong as his hands worked on the machine. Jiyong didn’t reply. Instead, he threw away his cigarette and approached Seungri, leaning down behind the man, watching as Seungri’s hands did magic on fixing the engine. ‘Fixing’ may be the wrong term as there was nothing wrong with it in the first place, but Seungri was always so careful with everything he had, treating it as if it was something incredibly important. The plane was no different, and Jiyong had spent many an afternoon, sitting with the pilot as he performed check-ups on it.

“You’re good with your hands,” Jiyong spoke, a smirk on his face.

Seungri nodded, oblivious and mindless on the words the officer was spouting. “I know.”

A wide grin.

“I guess your hands are good at other stuff, too.”

Clang. Clutter. Seungri jumped back, falling into Jiyong’s open arms. For how small in stature and thin Seungri seemed, he was quite heavy and Jiyong bit out a snicker as he swayed with the weight of the pilot in his arms. There was a dark stain of red on his cheeks, and the boy finally _finally_ looked his age, innocent and adorable and far too young to be sacrificing his life for his country. “What are you talking about? Jiyong!”

Jiyong laughed and laughed and Seungri found it entirely mesmerizing. Jiyong kept laughing and laughing, never letting of Seungri, his arms tight around the man’s waist, his face nuzzled against his shoulders and before Seungri knew it, he was laughing, too.

They laughed and bickered and laughed once more, the sun slowly going down, the blue sky burning into orange and their shadows melding into one.

“We should totally have a date,” Jiyong spoke once they’ve caught their breath, Seungri still in his arms, smiling against the boy’s neck. In the silence, with the boy in his arms, Jiyong wondered how far they’ve come. He wondered as to how deep the boy had fall into Jiyong’s world, how every moment spent with him was suddenly wearing away at his restraints, at how Seungri had carved himself so deep that Jiyong was afraid he’d tear himself apart just to keep the boy in.

He really, truthfully, had no idea what they had, what Seungri and Jiyong shared, but it made him happy, it made him warm and it was enough — and in a world wrought with so much death, so much lost chances and so little time, being enough was more than enough.

Seungri giggled a bit, his form trembling in Jiyong’s arms, head lolling back to rest against Jiyong’s. “Don’t start with that or else we’ll be laughing till midnight.”

At this, Jiyong smiled. “Maybe, but I’m serious. We should have a date, just the two of us, without Youngbae or Daesung or Chaerin or even Big-Seunghyun. Do you want to?”

Seungri was silent, head still against Jiyong’s, arms still holding on to Jiyong’s.

“I want to.”

Jiyong kissed Seungri, for the first time.

∞

They kissed.

They hugged.

They held hands.

They made love.

Two months turned to three to four to five and Jiyong’s room became Seungri’s room and Seungri’s room became Jiyong’s room, too. Jiyong’s clothes became Seungri’s clothes and Seungri’s clothes became Jiyong’s clothes and the spaces they once called their own turned into home.

Jiyong’s happiness became Seungri’s happiness and Seungri’s happiness became Jiyong’s happiness and that was all that mattered.

It was like a light had opened and Jiyong realized how _beautiful_ Seungri was, especially when they made love. Especially when rain poured heavily outside, the curtains shut tight, the orange light of the lamp painting the room and their bare bodies with shadows and light. Especially when Jiyong pushed further into Seungri, when Seungri’s cries of pleasure echoed, when Jiyong kissed him and Seungri came and suddenly all the sunsets and sunrises Jiyong had seen seemed to pale in comparison to Seungri’s beauty.

∞

 “I love you,” Jiyong whispered, his lips tracing the words on Seungri’s bare shoulders, his arms tightening around the younger man, pulling him further into Jiyong’s embrace.

The silence was calm, restful and pensive, the moonlight shining through the window.

“I love you too.” Seungri whispered back, and Jiyong’s world was spinning in balance once again.

∞

Their first fight was terrible, was devastating, was horrible. It was pointless and nonsensical and it shouldn’t have bothered Jiyong, it shouldn’t have bothered Jiyong to see Park Sandara, one of the female pilots, kiss Seungri on the cheek. It shouldn’t bother him because Jiyong knew that Seungri loved _him_ , that it was Jiyong that Seungri came home to, that it was Jiyong that Seungri said those words to, that it was Jiyong and his photo that was in the small pocket watch Seungri had with him all the time.

It shouldn’t bother him, but it did.

It really did.

“She’s just a friend, Jiyong! You are the one that I love.” Seungri spoke, his voice loud and annoyed as Jiyong walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, arms crossed.

“Don’t play me for a fool, Seungri! I know what I saw. Tell me, are you two together? Have you been doing it behind my back all this time?” Jiyong was angry, Jiyong was jealous and Jiyong was irrational. His words spoke for him before his mind could and it made everything all the uglier. He’s always had a bite that delighted in striking against others, and for once, Jiyong wished he just kept his mouth shut.

“What? How—how could you think that?” Seungri shouted, shock painting his face, a glimmer of hurt in his eyes. “How could you think that I would betray you like _that_?! Jiyong, you know me better than anyone! I’m not that kind of person. You’re not thinking this straight!”

“Stop with your lies, Seungri and be honest with me, for once. Were all your “I love you Jiyong” and your “I want to marry you, Jiyong” true? Were they, huh? Tell me, Seungri, because after seeing that, I doubt it!”

“Jiyong, you’re angry and you’re jealous. I know, I get it, I really do. I know that you don’t like it when I’m with my friends because you’re scared that they’ll take me away from you. I understand that, Jiyong, but you are being irrational here.” Seungri reasoned out, stepping closer, arms open and eyes pleading.

Jiyong’s anger burst into full rage. “ _Don’t you dare try and patronize me! Don’t you fucking dare!_ ”

Seungri stepped back, hurt and a little bit scared at Jiyong’s outburst. “Jiyong, I wasn’t patronizing you—“

“ _Get out!_ ”

“Jiyong, listen to me—“

“ _Leave! Get out! Do you understand me!”_

“If you would just listen to me, Jiyong, I swear I did not m—“

“ _I said get out, lieutenant. That is a fucking order!”_

And before the words could evaporate, before the words could be taken back, before Jiyong could realize that he made a mistake, a _terrible mistake_ , Seungri had silenced. The fire dulled, and ice Jiyong had never known crept up across Seungri’s features — painfully cold. He had silenced and stepped back and back and back until he was out of Jiyong’s room, out of Jiyong’s presence, out of Jiyong’s life.

The door slamming against the hinges reverberated in the silence.

∞

Day turned to night and to day again and Jiyong never left his spot, eyes watching the door, willing Seungri to come back, to enter. He willed Seungri to pass through the door, angry or sad or whatever emotion he had just so that Jiyong could hold him in his arms and tell him he was sorry.

It was unfortunate, then, that Jiyong had no such powers.

The silence went on.

∞

Days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months and Seungri had neither spoken nor looked at Jiyong since their fight. Jiyong, too, had neither spoken nor looked nor acknowledged Seungri’s existence since then. Their conversations were filled with cold, impersonal words and standoffish tones; Jiyong did not come down to have lunch in the cafeteria and Seungri never went up to have lunch with Jiyong in the radio tower; Jiyong did not come to their Friday gatherings if Seungri was there and Seungri would not come if Jiyong was there, causing their friends to shake their heads in distress.

It was immature, pathetic and pointless. Neither Jiyong nor Seungri cared, too volatile and hurting to back down, to let the loneliness crumble their walls.

It went on and on and on, and if Jiyong had some clairvoyance, had some sense of the future, he would have ended it long before it got worse, tore down his own walls, ran his pride through the mud if it meant he could reverse time, turn back the clock and change destiny.

∞

It was a stupid mistake.

A stupid, messed-up, totally pointless and idiotic mistake.

Jiyong should have never fought with Seungri, should have never screamed those words at him, and should not have _even considered_ pulling rank on the boy that meant the world to Jiyong. Seungri had always been fire, but Jiyong was the furnace to the pilot’s flames and there was nothing but cold without him.

Maybe if he hadn’t, maybe if he had made the right choice, maybe if he had let go of his pride and begged for forgiveness, it wouldn’t have come down to this.

It was just a simple test, really.

There shouldn’t have been mistakes.

Everything should have been top-notch, at optimal levels.

It was a simple fucking test.

Yet like the cruelty of Murphy’s Law, everything that could have went right, went wrong — and at the worst possible moment.

How could a simple test drive fall into disarray? It was a simple procedure! It was something they did everyday! How could it have gotten to this?

How could Seungri’s plane, which was working _perfectly_ , working _at top level_ , just suddenly lose control and die down? How could the engine that Seungri worked on _everyday¸_ the engine that Seungri _checked every fucking day_ , just malfunction and combust?

How?

“Lieutenant, is everything alright?” Big-Seunghyun growled into the communicator, the static on Seungri’s side loud and clear. Jiyong felt his stomach turn into lead and his world was suddenly on fire, like the way half of Seungri’s plane, from middle to tail end, burned.

Seungri was fire, but the inferno licking up across everything would burn Seungri out faster than Jiyong could keep him safe.

There was a cough of pain and a wheezy voice answered. Seungri. “Engine combusted—and—“

“ _What!”_ Seunghyun glared at Jiyong, who found himself standing next to the commander, protocol be-fucking-damned.

“—and fuselage—flames—altitude at twenty thousand—“

“Lieutenant, do you have a parachute with you? I repeat: Lieutenant, do you have a parachute with you?” Seunghyun spoke once more, mouth on the communicator.

Jiyong felt his hands turn cold, his stomach twenty times heavier, his heart beating so fast that it hurt.

“Lieutenant, answer me!” Seunghyun shouted, shocking everyone in the control center. His form was trembling, and his grip on the communicator threatened to break it in two.

“—parachute—engine blew up—release not working—altitude at thirty—thousand—burned—no parachute—“

Before Big-Seunghyun could answer, before anyone else could answer, Jiyong had pushed the commanding officer out of the way and his hands grabbed the communicator and Jiyong lost it.

“Seungri! Seungri-ah! It’s me, it’s Jiyong! Can you hear me, baby? Can you?” His voice broke and his body shook and his heart was about to go overdrive and kill him and he knew he was going to get demoted for this but he didn’t care.

He didn’t give a fuck.

How could he?

How could anyone else ask that of him when—when—

“Jiyong—I’m here—you okay—altitude—“

“Seungri, can you hear me clearly? Can you?”

“—altitude—“

There was a burning in the back of his eyes but Jiyong ignored it.

“ _Shut up about your altitudes and let me talk, damn you!”_

“—nine thousand—Yes—clearly—I can hear—“

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. I should have believed you, should have listened to you. I’m so stupid, Seungri. I’m so stupid and jealous and I hurt you so much.”

“—it’s okay—‘m sorry too—Jiyong—“

“I’m such a stupid boyfriend. I let my pride get in the way and now, now you’re—you’re—“ Jiyong held back a sob, held back the wail threatening to escape his throat, his grip on the communicator shaking.

“—Jiyong—not stupid—love you—“

“Which is why you need to get back! _You need to get back here! You need to be alive so you can find someone better!_ Find someone who appreciates you, Seungri! You need to get back so that you can find someone better than _me_!” Jiyong replied, on the edge of breaking down, on a wire about to collapse into despair at the weight of everything Jiyong wished he could change.

“—nobody—Jiyong—better than you—“ _No one better than you, Jiyong._

 _No one better than you, Seungri_. “Then get back here so we can have our date! The date that we talked about months ago, remember? Remember?! The date that you promised me, Seungri! Don’t you dare break that promise or I will fucking kick your ass!”

There was a laugh, and Seungri’s clear voice broke through and Jiyong’s tears fell before he could will them back.

“I will, we’ll go out, Jiyong. We will.”

“I know, because I bought this nice shirt for me to wear for it.” Jiyong spoke, tears dripping down his face.

Seungri’s voice was clear on the other end, finally. “I’ll be the first one to see it, then, and you’ll be the first one to see me in a suit.”

Jiyong laughed and Seungri laughed and their hearts burned with pain and agony. “I love you, Seungri.”

“I love you too, Jiyong.”

Then, Jiyong was standing and roaring at the communicator and laughing like mad. “Seungri, it says here that your altitude is at six thousand and decreasing. That’s not right, you should be at forty.”

Seungri laughed, “You know I was never good with math.”

Jiyong smiled, even though his chest hurt, even though the numbers slowly decreased, even though his grip on his world began to falter, “Well you better come back so I can teach you then, huh?”

“I will, Jiyong. I will and we’ll have our d—“

“Seungri?”

“Seungri?”

Victory had gone offline.

“Seungri?”

∞

_I am lost, I am vain,  
I will never be the same without you._

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, you may now stab me at the abuse of artistic license I did just to be as angsty as possible. Tagged as 'Implied character death" because...well...Seungri...may have survived??


End file.
